You could tell Nick Clegg was nervous, standing in for David Cameron, who was in the US. Mind you, he was lucky, since standing in for Ed Miliband was Harriet Harman. She tried to lighten things up with a few jokes. Now the Muppets are back, I was reminded of Fozzie Bear, the hopeless comedian.

The jokes aren't that bad; it's just that they're delivered with slightly less timing and flair than a satnav.

But later, Pete Wishart, the MP for Perth, stood up to greet this glad day on which Perth had been declared a city. It was, he said, a "fantastic honour". He thanked the palace and the deputy prime minister for the "tremendous award". I thought he might get on his knees and start sobbing out his gratitude.

"That's the kind of question I like," said the deputy prime minister. He didn't point out that Wishart is a Scottish Nationalist. If his nation becomes independent, as the SNP fervently wishes, what the Queen thinks about anything will be a matter of total indifference. It's as if Lenin were to grovel to the tsar for giving him a medal.

Still, Clegg did better than he has in the past. At times I thought he was channelling his boss. Peter Lilley said his constituents were concerned about the deficit, not about reforming the House of Lords. This was a blatant dig at Clegg himself, since Lords reform is his obsession.

The Lib Dem leader calmly replied that parliament could do two things at once. Dennis Skinner told him that, with Cameron abroad, he had a chance to separate himself from "all this Murdoch sleaze and borrowed police horses". He added to delighted Labour cheers: "Come on, be a man!"

Clegg simply bypassed the question. We were soon going to celebrate 42 years of Skinner in the Commons. "In all that time he has not mellowed one bit." Cameron would have been proud of such a majestic ignoral.

As for Fozzie Harman, she quoted Vince Cable on the government's lack of vision. "These days nobody agrees with Nick, but does Nick agree with Vince?"

Later she said Clegg would never stand up for the NHS – the "only thing he stands for is when the prime minister walks into the room". Oh dear.

La Fozzie had one good line: Shirley Williams had been made to vote for the health bill. "So the deputy prime minister has trashed not one but two national treaures!" She sounded as if she were telling us that our call was important to her.

Breaking news: yesterday I compared the jargon used by some modern politicians to Shakespeare, specifically the scene in Macbeth in which he learns that Lady Macbeth is gone. Nick Broadhead sent a story told by an actor friend who once appeared in the Scottish play in Sheffield. Seyton (played by a famous actor I won't name in case it wasn't him) entered and instead of saying "The Queen, my lord, is dead," announced: "My wife is dead."

Macbeth, completely nonplussed, stared, then asked: "How's my wife?"

Seyton replied: "She's dead too."

And so the play resumed, with no further mention of this amazing coincidence. We often see similar weird, baffling disjunctions in the Commons.